His hands shook as he opened the tin of mints, his trembling fingers tried to pick out a pill. It was at that moment that he was yanked backwards out of the call box, the pills thrown up into the air and landing a microsecond before the tin clanged onto the floor. Saul had time to let out the start of a scream just before a hand was clamped over his mouth and he was manhandled into a car.
As an unseen force pushed his face into the worn seat material, he had time to register the smell of leather before he stopped breathing. Then everything went dark.
CHAPTER 33
Hannah watched as a team of forensic officers carefully dismantled her business in less time than it took to bake a batch of rolls. The oven had been stripped, the cupboards searched, the sacks of flour upturned and the utensils examined for any possible clues that Saul may have left behind: a fully fledged attack on the integrity of her husband, this is what all their kind words and concern came down to. Even the nice one. He probably used that approach to get the loved ones on side and have them do the heavy lifting when it came to convincing a suspect to give himself up.
Suspect. This sobered her up and she gave her puffy eyes one last wipe: that was enough of that. Saul had been right not to trust these people; they were not interested in the truth or justice they were interested in statistics. Saul would be another solved case and someone would get promoted, of that she had no doubt. Maybe it would be the nice man with the bad suit.
Even as she convinced herself of the innocence of her husband there was still a nagging doubt. The things he had done and seen could not be undone. They would leave an indelible impact on the mind. She tried to image what it must have been like for him, for them all. It was inconceivable. She knew what had happened, had lost family herself, had seen the documentaries and read the personal accounts; yet that madness, the logistics of the whole thing defied imagination. One thing was clear: nobody could emerge from that process whole. Saul’s life was a testament to that. He had done horrendous things, correction, had been forced to do horrendous things and had somehow managed to forget them, bury them so deep he probably did not even think of them anymore. Could he be doing this even now?
She felt Steffan behind her, smelled his aftershave.
‘When can we reopen?’
‘When they are finished.’
She turned to face him.
‘When will that be?’
Steffan ignored the question and spoke to Torsten who had just arrived from questioning Timo and Anja. Hannah wondered what they had said and hoped to get an inkling now. Steffan however, was far too experienced to ask in front of her. The fact that Torsten had not requested a private chat told him all he needed.
‘Get his description out to the patrol officers, supervise this and then stay here in case he comes back. I’ll take Mrs. Cohen home.’
‘I don’t want to go home,’ she said.
‘There’s a good chance he’ll go home. Don’t you want to be there for him?’
She had to give him that.
‘Yes.’
#
The leather smell was the first thing to come back. He must have fallen asleep in his armchair. The next were the voices; these threw him as they did not belong to anyone he knew. Realising his eyes were still closed he decided to open them in order to investigate his world: it was dark here. The voices stopped and he heard singing -music and a low rumble.
It’s the radio, I’m in a car.
He was still face down too. Lifting his head, he looked around. It was night, there were two people sitting in the front of the car. They were bathed in the glow from some exterior light source. He forced himself up.
‘Sleeping beauty’s awake. You do talk a lot of shit in your sleep man,’ said a voice next to him.
Saul turned to put a face to the voice. He did not know the man. Saul looked at the others as they turned in their seats. One of them snapped the radio off. Saul did not recognise any of them. He was about to ask the whos and the whys when a telephone rang. A telephone in a car? Who are these men? What was this crazy music they played? They must be foreign despite speaking German like natives.
The driver answered the mobile phone. There was a pause while he listened.
‘Okay. Thanks,’ he said and hung up. Turning to Saul the man continued.
‘Time for some fresh air.’
They all left the car and the man next to Saul left his door open.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to have to drag you out.’
Saul moved and that’s when the ache hit his neck. He winced but kept moving. When he got to the door the man lifted him out and supported Saul while he stood. The ease at which he carried this out was remarkable and Saul wondered what these men, who could not be much older than him, ate.
‘I can stand,’ said Saul.
‘Fine by me,’ said the man and let him go.
Saul sunk to his knees and put his hands out to catch himself. He heard the men laughing and on point of pride forced himself to stand.
He knew instantly where they were. They were on the central reservation of Schlossstrasse. On his right illuminated for all to see stood the Schloss itself. He had been there last week on a school trip, though they had not said anything about lighting it up at night. He would have to tell Papa and Mama. But where were they now?
‘I’d like to go home now,’ he said. ‘I live close by and can walk.’
The men laughed again.
‘Nice try,’ said one of them.
‘My mother will be worried.’
They laughed harder. Saul thought about running but these men must have been at least five years older than him and built like wrestlers.
There was something about the whole place that was unfamiliar. He knew it well, but somehow the details had changed. Details like the lights on the palace, it also seemed cleaner and newer than he had seen it before. That was not all: he noticed the cars on the streets. He knew they were cars but these were unlike any he had seen before. That movie he had recently seen flashed up in his mind and he speculated that he could be dreaming of the future. The clothes these men were wearing were also like nothing he had seen: blue, rough trousers, black leather jackets and white shoes with patterns and ticks on them. Some kind of perverse uniform with hair cuts to match.
More worrying than all that were his thoughts of Mama and Papa. There was a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought of his parents and his siblings. Why weren’t they here?
‘Will you take me home, please?’
The men did not answer. Another futuristic car pulled up and few more men got out. One of them walked up to him. Saul would have laughed were he not so scared: The man had clown hair.
‘Did you put the fucking bulls on me?’
‘No.’
The man slapped him across the face and Saul fell to the floor again.
‘Don’t fucking lie to me. I talked to Marie. You think setting them on me for murder will save you from me? Let me tell you, my business won’t skip a beat if I go to jail.’
Saul tasted blood in his mouth.
‘Did you?’ said the man again.
‘No.’
The kick sent him over onto his back and Saul found himself staring at the face of this vicious clown. This was wrong; they must have the wrong man.
‘I want to wake up,’ said Saul. His hands up in front of him trying to fend off the attacker. His hands were all wrong too. He took a quick glance down to find he too was wearing clothes from the future.
That laughter again. Saul squeezed his eyes tight shut and tried to wake himself up.
‘You’re in danger of never waking up again,’ said the clown.
The ball was spinning again, the gravity welling up inside him. Electrical charges traveling along nerve cells reached synapses releasing the chemical neurotransmitters that would bring Saul back to the present. Despite having a good one hundred billion nerves cells and o
ne hundred trillion synapses this process took nearly no time at all.
Saul returned with the usual remnants of a fading dream and a clear picture of what must have happened was forming in his mind. Not a day after telling Steffan his story they had ‘found’ evidence in his kitchen. How could he have been so naive as to trust the police?
‘One last time,’ said Rudi. ‘Did you?’
‘No.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Rudi looked at the heavies. ‘I don’t want to see him again.’
The heavies moved in, picking up Saul with ease and dragging him back to the car.
‘I can get the police off your back,’ shouted Saul panicked.
Rudi gestured for the heavies to pause for a moment while the desperate man pleaded for his life. This was the part he liked best and over the years he had heard some truly ridiculous offers of atonement none of which had made any difference. Unlike a Roman emperor he had no crowd to please and hence, had never given the thumbs up. He found himself smiling and looking forward to the excuse.
‘I know you didn’t kill Isaac,’ said Saul.
‘How?’
‘Because I know who did. I need a gun.’
Rudi’s smile turned into a grin and then into a belly laugh that he found hard to bring under control. Eventually he managed to restrain himself but as Saul started to speak he burst out laughing once more. His men joined in. About ten seconds later he was ready to continue.
‘Very good…’
Rudi nodded to the men and they picked up where they had left off. Saul, not ready to give up the fight yet, tried to struggle against the unstoppable force of these young men.
‘The police think I did it. They found evidence in my shop.’
Rudi, intrigued, signalled the men to desist once more:
‘Is this true?’
The heavies nodded and one of them answered:
‘There were bulls all around the store, Rudi.’
Saul could see Rudi was calculating something in his mind and was encouraged to support his statement.
‘What do you have to lose? Either I clear both our names or you kill me tomorrow,’ offered Saul.
Saul knew the result before it came; Rudi seemed to relax, the tension dropped from his eyes and his mouth betrayed a smile.
‘Give him a P6,’ he said to one of the men. ‘SIG-Sauer, it’s what the bulls use,’ he finished by turning to Saul.
Having no idea that the whole conversation had taken place with his feet a few centimetres off the ground, Saul was pleasantly surprised to take his own weight as they released him. One of the men handed him a gun with wooden grips. It was warm and heavier than it looked. He slipped the gun into his jacket pocket as if it were a carton of cigarettes.
‘I need some more things,’ said Saul. ‘They are looking for me.’
‘I’m all ears Mr. Bond.’
CHAPTER 34
The bright glare from the fluorescent strip light stuttered bathing the public toilet in a clinically demented light. Inhaling the smell of stale urine, Saul hung up a fresh set of clothes on the bathroom stall and placed a plastic bag on the floor beside the sink. Bolting the door shut he stripped to the waist.
Reaching into the plastic bag he took out an electric trimmer and discarded the box and the instructions. Who didn’t know how to use one of these? Slipping the batteries inside he flicked it on letting the powerful buzz fill the silence for a second. He considered his grey hair for an instant and then without remorse or hesitation began to shave it off, glancing down, watching it fall into the sink in big clumps.
In the reflection behind him he could see an orthodox family cowering in the corner. The man kept his son close to him while the woman approached Saul meekly. Saul shut off the trimmer out of politeness and waited for her to gather the strength to speak. There were only ever a few questions and he was ready for them all with a voice that was spoken to sound spontaneous and a face that approximated empathy.
‘Est-ce que je suis obligée de me déshabiller devant des hommes?’ (Do I have to undress in front of the men?).
‘Je sais que c’est dure mais tu doit le faire. Les autres le font aussi. S’il te plaît.’ (I know it’s hard but you have to. Everyone else is. Please.’).
She looked around and stepped back to her family. Saul clicked the trimmer and continued to shave his hair, satisfied with reflection that showed the family were undressing. The man was stripping off, glaring at Saul. The woman undressed the boy. This was normal of course. She just wanted to delay her own undressing in the hope that in the meantime something or someone would intervene. Nothing ever did and by the time Saul was smoothing out the rough patches she too was down to her underwear; nervously glancing around before taking comfort in the fact that others were doing it too, she removed her bra. The man continued to stare at Saul, while holding his son in his arms.
#
Steffan replaced the phone on the cradle and blew a slow breath of air out of his mouth like he was expelling cigarette smoke. He found himself doing that when he wanted a smoke and could not; it tricked his brain into thinking he was smoking, not for long but long enough. He had started to light up but a look from Hannah had changed his mind. He walked back to the sofa where the family was sitting.
‘No sign of him yet,’ said Steffan. ‘Do any of you know maybe a favourite place he might go to? A friend he might call on?’
Aaron shook his head.
‘I don’t really know him,’ said Mira.
‘I could call some of our friends?’ suggested Hannah.
Steffan liked for people to come up with their own ideas. It was much better than him telling them what to do.
‘Good idea,’ he said.
He watched her as she walked to the small telephone table, pulled out an address book and started flicking through it.
It was getting dark and if Saul did not show up soon Steffan knew their work would become tougher. He had no doubt they would catch him: his passport was still here, as were his bankbooks and cards, but what worried him was Saul’s state of mind. Could a man in his condition be expected to make the same mistakes that all fugitives made? He reprimanded himself once more for almost falling for the yarn Saul had spun him, but even here he knew he was being too hard on himself. He was good at catching liars but Saul had been so convincing and this was the crux of the matter. When is a lie not a lie? When the liar believes he is telling the truth. He turned to Aaron and Mira.
‘So you’re the crack team of detectives?’
They both smiled.
‘Just out of professional interest, how did you discover that Manfred Fuchs was a cop?’
The smiles fell from their faces.
‘What?’ said Mira.
‘You mean to say you didn’t know?’
‘Are you saying the man we followed home is a police officer?’ said Aaron.
Steffan felt his stomach drop.
‘You followed him home…’
Steffan ran from the room almost knocking Hannah over on his way out.
CHAPTER 35
Saul stood at the front door waiting in a night that seemed thicker than the night in the centre of town. He heard the taxi engine fade to nothing; sure that he had made the right choice in letting it go. He wouldn’t be leaving.
The doorbell had sounded loud and clear and he could distinctly hear the thumping of footsteps from inside the house.
Rudi had recommended he either go very smart or dress like a bum: either way the bulls would ignore him. In England they called the police “pigs” and in Germany “bulls”. For a moment, Saul desperately wanted to know which animals were used to describe the police in every country. Surely someone had done that research?
The haircut was Saul’s idea: A man could shave his hair and remain unrecognised by his mother, he had seen it in practice. Brushing down his new grey suit, he instinctively made to straighten his tie only to be reminded that he had
forgotten to buy one. Too late now, he thought as the sound of footsteps approached the door. It was opened by the young Boris Becker.
‘I’m here to see your father.’
Boris gave him the once over, but was not overly concerned by the man before him. He looked like he’d just come from the barber as there was still hair on his face.
‘Is he expecting you?’ said Boris.
‘No, we’re colleagues from the good old days and I was just passing and thought why not? You must be the new Boris Becker he keeps talking about.’
The boy smiled at the compliment.
‘Come in.’
Saul had thought he might have to force the boy and was almost surprised by the invitation. He let the grip on the gun, still in his pocket, loosen. But then again why not? The kid was the son of a senior police officer; Saul imagined nothing bad had ever happened to him. He followed the boy into a cosy house that was all pastels and lace. Going by the smell, they’d had roast chicken for dinner. The sound of Mozart’s The Magic Flute drifted down the hall. It was one of Saul’s favourites.
The living room was large and continued the theme that someone had put a lot of thought into. There was a piano in one corner of the room and as Saul entered behind the boy he discovered Manfred/Helmut sitting on a leather sofa with his wife, listening to the radio concert.
Just as Manfred/Helmut started to rise Saul pushed the boy hard into his father. The boy floundered, was caught by his father but the inertia was too great and they both wound up back on the sofa. Manfred/Helmut was quick to recover and was about to launch himself at Saul when he noticed the gun pointed at them and relaxed back into his seat.
‘Is there anyone else in the house?’ asked Saul.
‘I’m a police officer!’
‘I know what you are.’
The White House Page 18
